Unknown (74 page)

There
was only a token defence at the castle By the time that Montrose
reached its walls
MacCailean
Mor's
banner
was being hauled down, and the chagrined MacDonald chieftains were
stamping about, cursing, at the discovery that their quarry was gone.
The Graham had the greatest of difficulty in preventing them from
putting all within to the sword there and then, and burning the
building over them, in sheer frustration - after certain of the
treasures had been extracted, of course It was a fine house, and full
of valuables. Argyll's wife and two sons were not there, being
evidently domiciled meantime at Roseheath Castle in Cowal, far to the
south, on the Clyde estuary - where, retainers informed, the Manpiis
was now proceeding.

So
Inveraray, the vaunted Campbell citadel, fell almost without a blow
struck. It was a wonder, an anti-climax of the first order, almost an
affront, somehow. Men could hardly credit it, especially the proud
chiefs, who went about
as
though
somehow cheated, tricked, offended. Archibald Campbell's credit would
never recover from this - at least in the Highlands. But that was
scant consolation. Malice was not to be sated.

Montrose
sought, with indifferent success, that at least it should not be
sated, by proxy, on Inveraray town and district Some harrying and
spoiling there had to be, of course - it was the terms on which
Highland armies fought; but wholesale slaughter, sack and
destruction the King's representative forbade in die King's
name. Not that his commands received strictest obedience. But at
least no more of the town was set alight, and the proposal to hang
every able-bodied man on a large extension of
MocCailean
Mor's
already
commodious gallows - where so many MacDonald clansmen had
dangled - was negatived.

A
large proportion of the population, in the event, escaped in the
fleet of boats, leaving the town to the victors.

That
night, in Archibald Campbell's hall, Montrose sat in Archibald
Campbell's chair at the head of Archibald Campbell's table,
while his colleagues and lieutenants ate and drank the Campbell's
provision and made merry. MacDonald pipers paced up and down the
great stone-vaulted chamber, blowing their hardest; captains and
chieftains, many of them already much drink-taken, shouted and sang,
banged their flagons and stamped their feet; Campbell serving-wenches
skirled and squealed as they ran the gauntlet of lecherous
hands; deer-hounds snarled and squabbled over bones and scraps. James
Graham was no spoil-sport and enjoyed the relaxation of convivial
company with any man. But he was tired, and not being addicted to the
bottle, was stone-cold sober - which is a handicap in such
circumstances. None better, he recognised that his hard-pushed
supporters and allies deserved their recreation and amusement. Young
Johnnie had fallen asleep over the table, at his side, and near by,
Airlie snored. But if Montrose knew anything of Highland
festivity, the noise and excitement would increase rather than
lessen, soon the dancing would commence, the trials of strength, the
outdoing of one's neighbour in song and story and muscle, and steel
might well flash. These clan chiefs were only temporarily in
alliance, with each other equally with himself; most of them were at
timeless feud and rivalry. By die time such stage was reached, the
King's Lieutenant intended to be safely if less than peaceably
elsewhere.

It
behoved him to say what he had to say soon, therefore, while men
might still take it in — since it was important, and the morrow
might present no opportunity. He banged on the table with his goblet,
he rose to his feet and clapped his hands, Black Pate bellowed for
silence - all to no least effect other than to wake up Johnnie
Graham, but not the Earl of Airlie.

At
length, taking up a great silver tankard half-full of wine, and
engraved with the Campbell arms, Montrose suddenly hurled it crashing
down the centre of the long table, with fullest force, after the
manner of a curling-stone, whereon it smashed aside dishes, goblets
and broken meats, spilling its contents and that of others, splashing
diners, shouters and sleepers alike, in a spectacular if limited
ruin.

This,
at least, attracted attention. Men jerked back, startled, and stared.
Voices died away - even though the pipes and the hounds still gave
tongue.

Montrose
smiled at them all, gently, genially, and raised his hand to the
pipers - who raggedly choked and wailed to a temporary close.

'My
lords, chiefs, friends,' he said, 'a few moments of your time, I
pray. I shall not detain you for long. But some matters require your
attention, and I crave your patient hearing. Firstly, I would thank
you, thank you all, from my heart. These last days, you have done
what has seldom, if ever, been done before. What few might have
believed possible to be done. You have nursed and coaxed an army
across Highland Scotland in mid-winter in five days, most of it in
hostile territory. You have made traverse of trackless mountains in
darkness. I will not thank you for beating the Campbell hi fight,
since he did not stay for that. . .'

The
roar of derision, abuse and contumely drowned his voice. He waited.

'So
much for thanks,' he went on, when he could. "Now for a word of
warning. We celebrate here in Campbell's house - but celebrate what?
One man's craven spirit? We have won no victory, gained no battle -
save over rock and headier. One Campbell, and he
MacCailean
Mor
,
has
fled before us. But there are others, my friends. You have not, for
generations, hated - aye, and dreaded - the Campbells because of one
man or one house. There are, I am told, over
150
Campbell
lairds who can field over
100
men,
some of them up to five times that number. And we are in the midst of
their land ...'

Again
interruption, this time growlings and cursings.

'In
two days, or three, my friends,
10,000
men
could be surrounding this town. We have but a quarter of that, with
John of Moidart still at the coast. Nor do the Campbells lack for
leaders. Think of these - Campbells of Glenorchy, Auchenbreck,
Dunstaffnage, Cawdor, Lochnell, Barbreck, Ardkinglas, Saddell - aye,
and a host of others. Men of stature and power.' He paused, and
looked down the table at Patrick Campbell of Edinample, who sat
beside Sir Alexander Menzies, both not a little uneasy. 'How say you,
Edinample? Are there not stark enough Campbell chieftains by the
score to lead Clan Diarmid? Even though
MacCaileanMor
plays
craven?'

'Plenty,
my lord Marquis,' the Campbell agreed. 'And do not forget my lord
Earl of Irvine, my lord of Argyll's half-brother. He is banished to
Ulster by his brother. But could be back within the week, to Kintyre.
Would that he were
MacCailean
Mor
,
instead
of Archibald. Then, I swear, you would not be sitting in this hall
tonight!'

That
statement was received with mixed feelings by the company, and there
were more dian unkind glances directed at the speaker - with whom
many of the chiefs had been loth to sit down in the first place, and
only pursuaded by Montrose's firm notions of courtesy. All, James
Graham included, were apt to forget Argyll's half-brother, James
Campbell, Earl of Irvine, cordially detested by Archibald and living
almost in exile on Campbell lands in Ireland. He was a man of some
vigour and ability, it was said. If he came back to lead Clan
Campbell in the field, there might be a different story to tell.

'You
make your point, Edinample,' Montrose acknowledged. 'It behoves
us, therefore, to watch how we go. To recognise that we are not
victors in a conquered land - not yet. Let us not behave as such. We
cannot
occupy
all
this great Campbell land - such would take ten times our number,
and more. And be unprofitable, besides. So we must seek to subdue it
piecemeal, by careful campaigning. Our task has only begun ...'

There
were less than respectful comments, protests, assertions as to
what real men could and would do to this Campbell kingdom,
claims that no Sassenach would teach true Highlandmen how to deal
with Clan Diarmid. Even Colkitto demonstrated a defiant attitude. How
much it all was strong liquor talking was not to be known.

The
Graham allowed them their say. Then resumed, conversationally,
easily, but assuredly. 'You fight under the King's banner. And under
my generalship. So long as you do, my good friends, you will heed my
commands. Your good advice and offices I will seek on all occasions,
as to tactics. But as to policy, my decisions prevail. All understand
that, I am sure?'

There
was an ominous silence.

"Good,"
he went on, smiling slighdy. "We have done great things
together, gentlemen. And shall do greater. But in order, and of a set
policy. And that policy necessarily forbids widespread pillage and
rapine of this country. For nothing is more sure to arouse and unite
against us this whole clan and people. Bring them in fury about our
ears. This you will understand, I am sure.' He raised a hand as the
snarling began. 'Hear me. I say that you shall have your booty and
spoil, in full measure. Campbell beasts and gear and goods you shall
not lack. But it shall be done decently and in order. On the
authority of the King's Lieutenant. I will have no burning and
slaying and raping, no lawless harrying of this land. I will not have
the King's name soiled, nor the King's cause jeopardised by such, and
the wrath which it would stir up. Is it understood?'

Only
a few men nodded or said aye to that - and none of them Highlanders,
Islesmen or Irish, save only for Magnus O'Cahan.

Montrose
looked around at a preponderantly hostile company. He smiled
still. ‘I do not know how best
you
impose
your will and command, gentlemen, on your men. For myself, I intend
to hang any in my own command guilty of disobedience to this. It is
my belief that your own authority will be no less effectively upheld.
I have not heard that any of you are backward in maintaining your
supremacy.' He paused, to let that sink in. Then he nodded, and
shrugged. 'I end, my friends, as I began - with my thanks and my
esteem. And my apology that I should so interrupt your, well-earned
diversion. The night, and this house, is yours. I bid you enjoy it.
Myself, I say a goodnight to you all.'

He
bowed and touching young Johnnie on the shoulder, turned and made for
the door. The clamour rose behind them.

Up
in a small tower bedroom with his son - he could not stomach Argyll's
own great bedchamber; Colkitto could have that - James Graham lay
listening to the noise from below and riot from the town, long after
Johnnie slept. It appeared to be his lot to seem responsible for the
sack of towns, hate it as he did. But, dependent on the unpaid armies
of fierce lords and chiefs, what could he do? Aberdeen had stained
his name. He prayed that Inveraray would not further tarnish it. But
he feared that the Campbell capital would not forget its Yuletide of
1644
for
many a year.